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Tomorrow is the first day of fall, which marks the official start of Pumpkin Spice Season. But before you head to Starbucks for a PSL, I have a PSA: there’s another seasonal spiced drink that just might make you lose your gourd. At this time of year, when everyone is preaching about pumpkin spice, I’m reaching for Bengal Spice.

As a rule, I’m a loose tea person, so I don’t pay much attention to commercial brands of tea packaged in individual bags, but my friend Stephanie made me sit up and drink years ago when she introduced me to Bengal Spice from Celestial Seasonings. Stephanie is the kind of friend who, when you stop by “for a second,” will invite you inside for a chat and begin loading up the kitchen table with all manner of gourmet goodies: French cheeses, Swiss chocolates, crusty breads, spiced nuts, and several different kinds of tea. On this particular occasion, she brewed a pot of Bengal Spice and served it with milk and honey. A caffeine-free take on traditional Indian chai, Bengal Spice contains familiar ingredients like cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, and cloves, but when milk and honey are added, it tastes like butterscotch. Really. Top with sweet whipped cream and it’s almost like having hot butterbeer.

Unlike pumpkin spice, Bengal Spice is available year-round, but I like to reserve it for fall, when cooler temperatures (and nesting tendencies) make me long for warming spices. I always drink it with milk and honey, because it is this combination that creates the candied alchemy. I can brew it easily, economically, and frequently at home—no need to stand in line or sell the farm for a soothing cup of seasonal cheer. And since it’s caffeine-free, enjoying a mug before bedtime actually helps me fall asleep.

Here in Southern California, the forecast for the coming week shows rising temperatures, so while the masses greet the season with all things pumpkin spice, trade in your PSL for a BST and experience true Indian Summer.

My deep appreciation of the cocktail goes way back. You might think to my early 20s, or even high school, but I became a connoisseur of spirits at the tender age of four.

Grandma Kay. It’s happy hour somewhere!

I spent the night with my grandparents often as a child. Our routine in the evening was to watch television in their den—mostly movies wildly inappropriate for a little girl, such as Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan or Logan’s Run. We’d settle in with our afghans, popcorn, and cocktails: bourbon and 7-Up for my grandparents and a wine cooler for me, which basically consisted of a glass of 7-Up with a healthy splash of wine. This was in the early ’70s, long before Bartles & Jaymes made wine coolers ubiquitous in the 1980s. I think, back in the day, it was acceptable to give kids a bit of wine before bed to make them sleepy. Or maybe it wasn’t, but “happy hour” was an everyday occurrence with my family and usually lasted until bedtime.

I was really into my wine coolers, and I knew what I liked. My grandma loved to tell the story where she tried to give me a different wine one time instead of my usual, which was a cheap rosé from Portugal called Mateus. I threw a fit until she relented and opened a bottle of my beloved Mateus. I liked the roundness of the bottle and the old-looking photo. Even at four I was picking wine based on the label.

Later, as a tween, when my parents drank Tom Collins, I got to drink the Collins mixer and pretended it was a real cocktail. You don’t see this drink much anymore, but, like Harvey Wallbangers and Rob Roys, it was popular in the ’70s. To make a Tom Collins, you just mixed gin with ice and Collins mix, which was a premade sour mixer sold next to the club soda and tonic water in the supermarket. It was easy and cheap and, when paired with a Captain and Tennille record, it kept the party swinging.

As an adult, one of my favorite rituals is having a martini with my dad. He makes a big production out of it with the fancy Waterford crystal glasses. We may not agree on what makes the best martini—he likes Beefeater gin and olives, I like Hendrick’s and a lemon twist—but we both agree that a gin martini is the only true martini. Vodka martinis are for suckers.

Like most people who enjoy a nice pre-dinner drink, I’ve embraced the craft cocktail revolution, greedily trying recipes involving St. Germain, Aperol, homemade syrups, and a myriad of bitters. And then I stumbled upon Seedlip.

Seedlip bills itself as “The World’s First Non-Alcoholic Spirit.” It has no calories, no sugar or sweetener, and no artificial flavors. It is copper pot distilled using herbs and aromatics. When mixed with tonic and a squeeze of lime or a grapefruit slice, it mimics the refreshing deliciousness of a gin and tonic.

There are two versions of Seedlip: Garden 108 and Spice 94. Garden 108 has an herbal profile with the essence of peas, hay, spearmint, rosemary, and thyme, while Spice 94 is more aromatic, with botanicals such as allspice, cardamom, oak, lemon and grapefruit conspiring together to dazzle your senses.

When I first read about Seedlip, I was swooning over the gorgeous bottles and the idea that I could have cocktails during the week that were alcohol-free. I also liked being able to provide an exciting aperitif for friends who didn’t drink alcohol. Unfortunately, it was only available in the U.K. (now it is readily available in the U.S.), but my dear brother-in-law and his girlfriend brought me back a bottle of Spice 94 from London. It was everything I hoped it would be. It had the juniper-y nip of gin commingling with many other mysterious and spicy notes.

I am often disappointed by gourmet food and drink that has the promise of exotic ingredients, only to taste them and find their magical flavors undetectable. Seedlip, however, really delivers on the flavor. Its spicy, herbal scent tickles the nose as much as it delights the taste buds. I am completely smitten. My husband, Aaron, is also a fan, and we went through our bottle lickety-split.

The only drawback is that Seedlip, with a $40 price tag per bottle, is more expensive than any fancy top shelf spirit. Still, this lovely elixir enchants me. I’ve yet to try the Garden 108, but I see a bottle in my future. I might even be wild and add some gin, or perhaps a splash of Mateus. I’ve got Wrath of Kahn on DVD and a soft afghan calling my name.

Swoon over this:

If you watch Game of Thrones, you already know what dragon’s fire does to enemy lines, but do you know what dragon’s blood does to facial lines? Croton lechleri, a flowering plant commonly known as “dragon’s blood,” produces a deep red sap that has both medicinal and cosmetic benefits. Its natural latex forms a protective barrier on the skin, acting as a liquid bandage to stop bleeding and speed the healing of wounds and other skin disorders. (When added to hair gel, it also helps smooth split ends while holding styles in place.)

In the short term, dragon’s blood can plump the skin, giving the appearance of smaller pores and smoother lines. Simply squeeze a few drops into the palm of one hand and rub with the fingers of the other hand until the sap turns white, then spread evenly onto the skin. It creates an almost imperceptible second skin that gives a refined, matte look. Dragon’s blood is also high in antioxidants and taspine, which promotes tissue regeneration and elasticity with regular use.

But the benefits of this red resin go more than skin deep. I initially bought dragon’s blood for the intriguing name and the fact that it really does look like blood, but I discovered that it’s been used in traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) for a variety of physical issues, both internal and external. I will not list them all here, because the good folks at The Raw Food World have done that for me (link below), but I’ve been known to swirl a few drops around in my mouth to encourage healthy gums. It always seems a little magical to ingest dragon’s blood, no matter how mundane the reason.

Now that I’ve spilled the beans about this fantastical beauty secret, you’ll be out for dragon’s blood, so tip the scales in your favor and enjoy skin that’s fit for a queen.

From now through the end of September, The Raw Food World is offering Dragon’s Blood at cost ($10.46, reg. $14.95). For the full list of September’s “At-Cost” Specials, click here. Enter the code “honeymoon” at checkout to get an additional 7% off your order.

Here in Southern California, we’re on the tail end of yet another summer heat wave. It feels like we’ve been pummeled with them this year, barely having time to enjoy a week of “cooler” temps (90s instead of 100s) before the next one rolls in. This latest wave brought some dreaded humidity that made going outside feel like stepping into a wet sauna. Ugh. We’re only midway through the season, so to keep my cool and freshen up when there’s no time for taking a bath, I’ve been taking the waters.

I discovered the culinary delights of rose water and orange blossom water when I got to know my Persian co-workers many years ago. They explained that Middle Eastern cooks use these floral waters in cooking and baking the way that most Americans use vanilla. I quickly learned that the waters also make fragrant and refreshing toners and tonics. During the summer, my favorite cooling trick is to pour them into spray bottles and keep them in the fridge for sweetly-scented spritzing throughout the day.

For years, I could only find Indo-European brand rose and orange blossom waters at Whole Foods and the ethnic foods aisle of some chain grocery stores, but then a large Middle Eastern market opened a few miles from my house and introduced me to a whole new world of culinary waters. There were familiar ingredients, like dillweed, cumin seed, and licorice, alongside less common ones, such as borage, sweetbriar, and willow, but some of the names were unrecognizable to me. What the heck is hedysarum? And fumitary water sounds like a treatment you’d be given on the road to wellville.

I bought them all.

Since I’m more of a baker than a cook, the dillweed and cumin have languished on a shelf, but orange blossom continues to be a favorite scent, and a rose by any other name—whether Naab or Ghamsar Kashan—smells as sweet. A whiff of willow holds hints of violet and rose, while fumitary emits the unexpected essence of peppermint. On sweltering summer nights, nothing beats a mist of mint water on sheets, pillows, and overheated skin, especially under the cooling currents of a fan.

Many of the descriptions online recommend taking these waters as a tonic beverage with plain water and sugar added. According to one, chicory water can “refine the blood,” promoting skin and liver health. Another claims that fenugreek water helps lower blood sugar and strengthen hair. Willow is said to stimulate the appetite, while fumitary (sometimes called fumitory) is beneficial for treating eczema and psoriasis. Hedysarum, which has a flavor completely unfamiliar to my American palate, tastes slightly medicinal, with a sharp earthiness and a trace of fruit that is both strange and exotic … and, apparently, useful for whooping cough.

In addition to Indo-European, I have found culinary waters from Cortas, Al Wadi, and Sadaf, but the largest selection is produced by Golchin. Most of them are only $3-5 a bottle, so stock up this summer and hydrate liberally, inside and out, because taking the waters is (almost) as therapeutic as a trip to the spa.

Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

Culinary Waters

If you don’t live near a Middle Eastern market and can’t find these culinary waters at your local grocery store or gourmet food shop, many are available online from Persian Basket.

Swoon over this:

For months, whenever I walked through the bakery section of my local market, I’d glimpse rows of cellophane bags standing at attention, each holding three perfectly stacked cookie sandwiches. Being a Double Stuf person, what caught my eye through the clear wrapping was a thick layer of white frosting in between each set of generously proportioned cookies. They were slightly more than I wanted to spend, but I was prepared to put a bag (or two) of these Divvies cookie sandwiches in my basket when I saw that they were made for people with dietary restrictions. Equating those words with boring and tasteless, I quickly moved on.

(Coconut) Milk and (vegan) cookies.

But that clear bag is diabolical.

Every time I went grocery shopping (usually on an empty stomach—the ultimate marketing no-no), I would stare at those cookies…and they would stare back. So I finally broke down and bought a bag.

Uh oh.

Sometimes it’s better NOT to know. I was safe when I thought they’d be stale and bland, but once I discovered their soft, chewy texture, abundance of chocolate chips, and rich, buttercream-like frosting, I knew I was in trouble.

A tragic case of mistaken identity.

Calling on hidden reserves of self-control, I only allow myself to indulge on occasion, so I almost snapped when a recent snafu caused me to pull a bag of oatmeal raisin cookie sandwiches out of my grocery bag when I got home. For those who know me, this is a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions. Raisins are always an affront, but when you’re expecting chocolate chips? We’re talking Et tu, Brute?-level betrayal. I thought about rushing right back to the store, but it had been a long, tiring day. Plus, I hate returning food items, since I know they can’t be resold, so I did what any reasonable person would do: I got a pair of tweezers.

If you love raisins, good news! These cookies are LOADED with raisins. (Bad news: you and I can never be friends.) By the time I’d cleaned house and sent the Sun Maid packing, my oatmeal cookie sandwich was FUBAR (fouled up beyond all raisin). I was feeling cheated of a rare indulgence, so I checked carefully the next time I went to the market and saw several bags of Divvies chocolate chip cookie sandwiches grouped together on the display table. I was about to grab a bag when I noticed that one appeared to have more frosting than the others, so I eagerly popped it in my basket…only to pull out another bag of oatmeal raisin cookies when I got home.

Shaking my fist at fate and the fact that chocolate chip cookies and oatmeal raisin cookies look disastrously alike, I vowed to stick with brownie cookie sandwiches from now on.

The last time I bought a bag, the checker asked if I was vegan. I said no, although I try to avoid animal products as much as possible, but we both agreed that Divvies stand toe-to-toe (and bottom-to-bottom) with any other gourmet cookie sandwiches on the market. So vegans and people with nut, egg, and dairy allergies, rejoice! You can indulge like all the rest of us “civvies”…just make sure to check your bags first so you know what you’re getting into.

If you plan to toast America’s Independence Day, you have three ways to say, “Cheers!” Those who enjoy bold flavor might try a red sparkling wine,* such as Lambrusco (wine blogger Marissa A. Ross is a fan), while traditionalists can opt for a classic champagne made with white wine grapes (our choice for the occasion, natch, is Cuvée Thomas Jefferson Cremant de Limoux Brut). But those who enjoy things a little off-color will swear by something blue.

Yes, blue sparkling wine is becoming a thing. There’s a blue prosecco from Italy, which gets its color from blue curaçao, but this 4th of July we’re raising a glass of Blanc de Bleu Cuvée Mousseux by Bronco Wine Company. Made from Chardonnay grapes with a touch of blueberry juice for color, Blanc de Bleu is a respectable effervescent wine with crisp, dry flavor…but let’s face it—the color is why we’re talking a blue streak about this cerulean sparkler.

The unexpected hue of Blanc de Bleu is mesmerizing and sure to become the center of conversation at any gathering. Much like rosé wine, which beguiles with its blush, blue sparkling wine is fun and doesn’t take itself too seriously (will #intotheblue replace #yeswayrose?). It’s a natural choice to serve at weddings and gender reveal parties…or to class up your backyard barbeque. There’s still time to stock up for tomorrow’s celebration, so get a case of the blues this year and spread some holiday cheer(s). Happy 4th, Swoonsters! 🥂 🇺🇸

Blanc de Bleu is available at BevMo, Total Wine, and many wine shops and liquor stores.

*You can also add cranberry juice to white sparkling wine for some bright red refreshment. With a splash of Cointreau or Triple Sec, this is known as a Poinsettia and makes a festive cocktail to serve during the Christmas holidays.

Swoon over this:

In a recent email to his subscribers, Tim Ferriss recommended the Superfood Mushroom Sampler Box from Four Sigmatic. Despite our sleep mask setback, I decided to order the box after reading about Tim’s experience with their mushroom coffee: “I was on FIRE for the entire day. I got more done that day than three or four days prior to that.” For a product that claims to deliver energy and focus with less than half the caffeine of regular coffee and none of the jitters, this was a ringing endorsement.

The “Finnish Funguys” at Four Sigmatic combine mushrooms, adaptogens, and superfoods to make earthy elixirs with nootropic properties. Translation: these plant-based brews can improve mental clarity, enhance memory, and increase productivity.* I was excited to try the samples, including two coffees, two hot cocoas, and four tea-like blends, but when I told Kirsti that I’d ordered mushroom coffee, her reaction was immediate and emphatic: “Yuck!” I thought she’d be intrigued, having just returned from a trip to Finland, where she found both the country and the people to be beautiful and charming, but she’s a coffee purist who was horrified at the thought of a fungus among us. Her too cool for toadstools attitude meant that I was on my own with this experiment.

Check out the effects of coffee #onshrooms.

I’d been expecting the mushroom coffee to taste just like java, but it had a slightly burnt flavor that wasn’t wholly unpleasant, although it wouldn’t pass muster with a coffee connoisseur. What I didn’t actually expect was the physical and mental boost I experienced during the day. I’d already been at work for hours flitting from project to project and talking a mile a minute before it occurred to me that this excellent new work ethic might simply be the effects of my morning joe. I stopped to check in with myself: no jitters or agitation, merely a feeling of energy and drive.

I waited a couple of days and tried the second packet of coffee. Again, I felt that increased and sustained energy as I went about my day. Since I’m not usually a strong placebo responder, I can only attribute the vroom to the ‘shroom. I’ve tried the hot cacao mixes (not sweet enough for me, but easily remedied) and the four elixirs, which tasted like bitter herbal tea. The addition of stevia leaf to Cordyceps, Lion’s Mane and Reishi softens the edge and imparts a light sweetness, but Chaga is best downed like a shot. To help make sense of its sampler, the company has compiled this handy guide, or enroll in their free Mushroom Academy.

The brew that started it all may be more “champignon of coffee” than champagne of coffee, but if you’re looking for a pick-me-up at work that won’t get you worked up, a comforting cup of Four Sigmatic will make you turn to mushrooms. So live like the Funguys and give these fungi a try.

Swoon over this:

My bedroom window faces east, and each year around the 1st of June my room lights up like the 4th of July. The angle and position of the rising sun cause laser-like beams of light to find their way through cracks in the blinds and directly onto my pillow. As readers of this blog know, I’m NOT a morning person, so this four-alarm fire at the crack of dawn is a rude awakening. There’s also a street light outside my window that, with its new energy-efficient LEDs, turns midnight into high noon. What’s a nyctophile to do?

I’ve considered and rejected blackout curtains for a number of reasons, so for years my solution has been to wear a sleep mask, but finding one that fits properly and meets all of my needs has proven more challenging than finding the perfect bra (men, you’ll have to trust me on this). Reviews have not been helpful, because people have different sleep habits and quirks when it comes to something covering their eyes. Tim Ferriss, who rarely steers me wrong, raved about a mask that I couldn’t manage to wear for a single night.

A night light is a no-no for quality sleep.

One feature I’ve discovered I MUST have in a sleep mask is eye cavities. You’ll never go back to a flat strip of material once you’ve worn a mask that allows you to open and close your eyes freely. The mask must also be soft, so it doesn’t cut into my skin, but sturdy enough to keep its shape and prevent any material from touching my lids or lashes. The strap needs to be snug, but not so tight that it gives me a headache. The Velcro should be adjustable, but the ends must meet neatly so that it doesn’t get caught in my hair. That’s a tall order, but I’m just getting started.

The primary purpose of a sleep mask is to block out light, and this is more important—and difficult—than you might think. While some people are sensitive and can be awakened by the barest light slipping in around the edges, deep sleepers can also be negatively affected by too much light. Scientists have found that even a typical night light can interfere with the body’s production of melatonin, a hormone that helps us fall and stay asleep. When you consider our exposure to artificial lights and computer, phone, and TV screens before bed and (often) during sleep, it’s amazing we aren’t all zombies (World War 💤). When I worked at an alternative healthcare center, one of the most common complaints among clients was insomnia. Maybe everyone just needed to cut the lights.

Eye cavities and a nose pad block out light.

I’ve always enjoyed nighttime, but I never experienced the bliss of sleeping in complete darkness until I found a sleep mask that blocked out ALL light. Unfortunately, I could only achieve this sightless sensation by lying perfectly still on my back, a position I can maintain for about ten minutes, tops. I move around a lot during the night and prefer to sleep on my side, so I need a mask that moves with me. Unless you attach it to your face with duct tape, however, even the best masks will let in some light when it comes to restless and/or side sleepers, but blocking out most—or even some—light is much better than nothing.

I have used and discarded several sleep masks over the years. Like many relationships, things usually start out great, but then you find something to complain about. I dallied with one that I really liked, but the cover started to fall apart after a couple of washes. Another was just right…until the foam began to disintegrate. I’ve been through straps that have lost their elasticity and others that have become hopelessly tangled in my hair. One mask pinched my nose, while another left crescent marks on my cheeks. I’ve slept with a bunch of losers trying to find The One, but I’ve gone steady with my current piece for almost a year and things are going well, so I’m finally ready to S.W.O.O.N. over it.

Escape™ into sleep with this luxury mask.

Dream Essentials sells a variety of sleep masks, from low cost to luxury, but while you might be tempted to try one of their aromatherapy, silk, or brightly patterned masks, I recommend the Escape™ Luxury Sleep Mask. With its contoured construction, plush material, adjustable strap, and eye cavities, it checks all the boxes. The mask was slightly stiff when I first started to use it, but became more flexible with repeated wear. Some light does sneak in when I’m not lying on my back, but I won’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good. Until Elon Musk turns his attention to creating sleep masks, I’ll continue to enjoy a Sleep Worthy Of One’s Nights with this essential accessory.

Since watching Sleepless in America and reading The Sleep Revolution, I’ve come to realize that getting quality sleep on a regular basis is one of the most important things we can do for our health and well-being, so be sure to slip on this luxury mask from Dream Essentials at bedtime and you’ll go out like a light.

Swoon over this:

I first encountered the baobab tree when reading The Little Prince in school. I assumed that the pesky plant with the funny name* on the volcanic asteroid was fictional, so I was surprised to learn later that it was a real tree on planet Earth. I can be forgiven for thinking that the baobab was made-up, though, because a) the name, and b) have you seen one? It actually looks like it’s from an alien world. I find it ironic that the tree is native to subtropical Madagascar†, because it doesn’t provide much shade from the sun, unless you stand in the shadow of its massive trunk. It does, however, provide a fruit that’s been gaining buzz recently as a superfood.

While I believe eating a balanced diet is more important than fixating on so-called “super” foods, I also believe that vitamin supplements should come from whole food sources. The powdered fruit of the baobab tree is high in vitamin C, a potent antioxidant that promotes skin elasticity, strong bones, and vascular health by helping the body build and maintain connective tissue. Plus, no scurvy! Baobab fruit is also a good source of copper, iron, potassium, zinc, and fiber. The powder is tart and slightly sweet, so it mixes well in yogurt (I prefer the coconut milk yogurt alternative from So Delicious) and can be dissolved in warm or hot water with a little honey for a refreshingly sweet-and-sour sip.

While I could get my vitamin C by eating citrus fruits, it’s much more fun to supplement with baobab powder. I dare you to say the name without smiling. It’s exotic and tasty, and you don’t have to deal with seeds or pith (I have texture issues with most fruits and prefer to eat them in smoothie—or pie—form). Vitamin C has become synonymous with healthy immune function, so rather than take two pills and call your doctor in the morning, make the call to take two teaspoons of baobab in the morning and you’ll feel super all day.‡

I discovered Davidson’s Baobab Powder while visiting their website to order more of my favorite rose tea, but there are other companies that sell organic baobab powder, including Baobest and Organic Burst.

*In my search for the proper pronunciation of baobab, I’ve come across equal instances of bow-bab (as in “take a bow”) and bay-o-bab. Since I’ve always pronounced it as bow-bab, I’m sticking with that.